Dave slides the glossy business plan across the table. The cover reads "XXX Technical College."
I look up at Dave, who is smiling a lot more than anyone should, really, at any time.
"A porn school?" I ask.
His smile tweaks a bit and I see a bit of red flush his cheeks.
"No, no, no," he says, letting out a coughing laugh. "I just haven't settled on the acronym yet. The three x's are a placeholder."
"Oh," I say, and flip open the document. It's the typical fare, lots of questionable justifications as to the necessity of the proposal, financial needs, and so on.
I sigh, idly turning pages but reading nothing.
"You can't really make money in education, you know," I say, and look up, apologetically. "Not really." "I agree," he says, and stands.
Walking over to the conference room door, Dave shuts it quietly and turns back to me.
"I want to say one word to you," he says. "Just one word."
"Okay," I say.
"Are you listening?" he asks.
"Um, yes," I say, and glance around the room to see if there is anyone else in the room he might have been talking to.
"Marrow," he says.
I stare at him, unsure what to say.
He tilts his head and smiles at me.
"You look lost," he says.
"Um, no," I say. "I just thought you were going to say 'Plastics'."
"What?" he asks, straightening up. "Why?"
"No reason," I say, and my eyes dart to the pale stick in his hand that I assumed was a dry erase marker. "So, uh...marrow. Wow."
"It's the future, Tom," he says. "A magical pudding to cure all the world's ills and make its masters rich."
"Here," he says, rifling in his pockets for something. "Let me show you."
He pulls out something that looks like a metal thumbscrew and sleeves the small bone he had been holding into it.
I clear my throat. "It's okay, Dave," I say. "I know what marrow is. Stem cells and all that, right?"
He looks disappointed, fingers poised on the butterfly screw. "But have you seen it, Tom? Have you seen the marrow?" he asks.
"No, but, I...look, Dave," I say. "What does this have to do with the school? Research or something?"
"Oh! Right!" he says, setting the bonescrew down.
He pulls the copy of the business plan in front of him and stares at the cover.
"The thing is," he says, "In the end, it's not so much a school, as a...um..."
"Skeleton farm?" I ask.
He stares at me, a half-smile frozen on his face.
"I...er...I was going to say 'tax dodge'," he says.
"That's good too," I say, standing. "But make the school a skeleton farm, and I'm in."
I look up at Dave, who is smiling a lot more than anyone should, really, at any time.
"A porn school?" I ask.
His smile tweaks a bit and I see a bit of red flush his cheeks.
"No, no, no," he says, letting out a coughing laugh. "I just haven't settled on the acronym yet. The three x's are a placeholder."
"Oh," I say, and flip open the document. It's the typical fare, lots of questionable justifications as to the necessity of the proposal, financial needs, and so on.
I sigh, idly turning pages but reading nothing.
"You can't really make money in education, you know," I say, and look up, apologetically. "Not really." "I agree," he says, and stands.
Walking over to the conference room door, Dave shuts it quietly and turns back to me.
"I want to say one word to you," he says. "Just one word."
"Okay," I say.
"Are you listening?" he asks.
"Um, yes," I say, and glance around the room to see if there is anyone else in the room he might have been talking to.
"Marrow," he says.
I stare at him, unsure what to say.
He tilts his head and smiles at me.
"You look lost," he says.
"Um, no," I say. "I just thought you were going to say 'Plastics'."
"What?" he asks, straightening up. "Why?"
"No reason," I say, and my eyes dart to the pale stick in his hand that I assumed was a dry erase marker. "So, uh...marrow. Wow."
"It's the future, Tom," he says. "A magical pudding to cure all the world's ills and make its masters rich."
"Here," he says, rifling in his pockets for something. "Let me show you."
He pulls out something that looks like a metal thumbscrew and sleeves the small bone he had been holding into it.
I clear my throat. "It's okay, Dave," I say. "I know what marrow is. Stem cells and all that, right?"
He looks disappointed, fingers poised on the butterfly screw. "But have you seen it, Tom? Have you seen the marrow?" he asks.
"No, but, I...look, Dave," I say. "What does this have to do with the school? Research or something?"
"Oh! Right!" he says, setting the bonescrew down.
He pulls the copy of the business plan in front of him and stares at the cover.
"The thing is," he says, "In the end, it's not so much a school, as a...um..."
"Skeleton farm?" I ask.
He stares at me, a half-smile frozen on his face.
"I...er...I was going to say 'tax dodge'," he says.
"That's good too," I say, standing. "But make the school a skeleton farm, and I'm in."
Hm...
Posted by: Enna Isilee | October 15, 2007 at 07:54 PM
Oooo, skeleton farm! How can I invest?
Posted by: Q | October 16, 2007 at 05:03 PM